


Marie and August

by Ellynne



Series: Rumple's Grimm Revenge [2]
Category: Grimm, Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4856390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellynne/pseuds/Ellynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a teen, Nick Burkhardt ran away from home. He was living on the streets using the name Neal Cassidy when he met a girl named Emma. Now, instead of convincing Baelfire he has to leave Emma alone to fulfill her destiny, August has to convince Marie Kessler, a Grimm at the height of her powers before she takes his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marie and August

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for some implied threats of beheading.

It was late at night.  A middle aged woman was walking alone down the street.  A young man, tall and strong, came after, moving closer, clinging to the shadows, always just out of sight—till he passed an alley and the woman came out behind him, putting a knife to his throat.

“Talk,” she said.

Her hand was pressed tight enough against his throat she could feel his pulse, quick and scared. “Marie Kessler?” The way he let her name out on a breath wasn’t even a whisper.  Probably afraid, if he spoke louder, the force of the words going through his throat would slit it open without any more help from her.  Smart boy.

She grunted.  He could take if for agreement if he wanted.  Marie had a general wariness about agreeing to anything a Wesen said even when they were right.  Besides, she wasn’t the one they were here to talk about.  “Who are you?”  she asked, moving the blade just enough so he could answer without killing himself.  She listened close for his answer.  There’d been three assassins four years ago who left her nephew an orphan.  She knew the names of all of them.

“August Booth.”

 _August Booth._ Not one of the killers.  If he were telling the truth.  Which he wasn’t.  Marie could almost taste the _wrongness_ of that name. “You’re lying.  Who are you really?”

She felt the tension in him, a man steeling himself to admit something he really didn’t want to do.  Whatever the truth was, he didn’t want her to know it.  Did he expect her to know his name, then?  If the Reapers were after Nicky. . . .

“Pinocchio.”

A Reaper with a sense of humor?  That would be a first. 

But, he didn’t feel like he was lying.  Marie thought about the Fuchsteufelwild and their ties to certain, very old stories.  They weren’t the only ones.  Most Wesen had animal traits.  Some, like Hexenbeists, were best described as something _other_.  But, some—a very few—were known for plantlike traits.  Dryads, the Hunting Trees, a few others.  “Made of wood, are you?” she asked.  Even with her knife almost in his throat, he hadn’t managed to woge.  She remembered the Folterseele, who only changed when threatened.  Was he like that?  A Wesen who changed by different rules?

“I guess you know the story,” he said.  “Then, you know how it goes.  I started out that way but I was loyal, brave, and true.  And, look at me now, a real boy.”

Marie heard the bitter sarcasm in his voice, wondering where it was coming from.  He wasn’t lying but he wasn’t telling the whole truth, either.  She thought about the story of Pinocchio .  He became a real boy by saving his father—being “loyal, brave, and true.”  Folterseeles changed when men threatened them.  If the stories were right, then. . . .

“You’re supposed to protect someone,” Marie said. “Having trouble with that?”

A shudder went through him.  Surprise?  Or just glad for the chance to confess?  “Yeah, you could say that.” He paused. “Her name’s Emma.”

“She’s with Nick.” It wasn’t a question.

“How do you--?”

Not a smart boy after all.  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?  You’re not worried about Wesen getting my nephew, you’re worried about them getting her.  That’s why you wanted me here.”  She pulled the knife away. “Fine, tell me who they are.  I’ll take care of it.”

The man turned around, rubbing at his neck and still watching Marie warily (that was all right, she was still ready to take his head off if he made any wrong moves).  “That’s not all you have to do,” he said.  “You have to get him away from her.”

“You think I can’t protect them?” Marie tried to sound amused but she was the reason Nick had run away in the first place.  She’d already failed her sister’s son in more ways than she could count, but the last one had been one time too many.

When Kelly “died” and Marie became Nick’s guardian.  She’d tried her best.  They’d moved around constantly, Marie doing her best to steer clear of any Reapers out to finish off what was left of the Burkhardts—or steer clear of any other trouble Marie might stir up. 

Then, they’d come to Portland, and Marie had wound up saving Mr. and Mrs. Silverton when they were coming home from a date and something tried to eat them.  When a new crisis hit, she’d trusted them to watch out for Nicky.  Then, she’d trusted them again.  And again. 

Over the last four years, the Silvertons had become Nick’s family—and Marie had felt the connection between them dying with each missed ballgame or broken promise.  This time, she’d told him she’d be there, no matter what.  She’d meant it, too.  Oh, there were reasons she hadn’t made it.  When she’d caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, arm in a cast, eye swollen shut, and stitches along her cheek, she’d thought Nicky would only need to take one look at her to forgive her.

But, he’d had enough.  When the Silvertons went to get him from his room, they found an open window and Nick gone.  Marie remembered standing there silently as the Silvertons answered the police questions.  What was he wearing?  Who were his friends?  Where was he likely to go?  Things Marie hadn’t had a clue how to answer.  But, there was no reason to tell “August Booth” any of that.

“They _can’t_ be together,” the man said, beginning to sound desperate. “She has a destiny.”

“A destiny?” Marie asked.  “Do you even listen to what you’re saying?”

“She does,” the man insisted.  For the second time since she’d met him, Marie could see him stealing himself to say something he didn’t want to— _really_ didn’t want to.  Compared to this, telling her his name was Pinocchio meant nothing at all.  “She—she’s a Royal.”

Marie stared at him.  Royals.  Their main power was in Europe, but Wesen all over the world got out of the way when Royals demanded it—or saved their skins by handing over whatever was asked for.  “A Royal girl running around with a homeless boy?  I didn’t think the seven families were that careless.”  Especially not with their daughters.  Royals, for whatever reason, bred far more boys than girls.  They guarded the daughters of the Seven Houses like gold.

“The queen hated her mother, saw her as a rival,” the man said. “She . . . had her imprisoned.  But, not before the mother sent the baby away.  If the queen finds her, she’ll kill her—and the boy with her.”

“What is it you’re leaving out?”

“If she can survive, someday she’ll stop the queen.”

Marie shook her head.  “No, not politics.  There’s something more.  Tell me.”

“I was supposed to protect her,” he said. “But, I didn’t.  I was sent with her when she was a baby and I was a child.  We . . . were separated.  I thought she’d still be safe, looked after.  Then, two years ago, I heard she’d run away from her foster home.  I came looking for her, but. . . .  You have to do something.  If she’s killed—I can’t let her be killed.”

A Wesen bred to protect, if that was what he was—one whose humanity depended on being (as he’d put it) loyal, brave, and true.  She wasn’t giving him points for being unselfish, but his desperation seemed real enough.  All the same—“ _All_ of it,” she told him. “What’s the rest of the story?”

Oh, she’d got him with that.  And she could see he didn’t want to tell her.  She might be able to threaten it out of him but she thought patience would work just as well.  Besides, other than his own life, the only thing she could threaten him with was the girl, and Marie didn’t know if she wanted to go there yet—not yet.

“It’s my fault,” the man said.  “They could have saved her mother.  They could have gotten her out.  But, the queen—my father was afraid I’d die if he didn’t get me out before the queen made her move.  When—when everything got crazy at the end, he told Emma’s mother it was impossible for her to get out.  We could only save her daughter.  But, it was a lie.  There was a way.  My father used it to save me instead. 

“That’s why I have to do this.  Emma’s the only one who can set this right.  And, to do that, she needs to grow up—and have nothing to do with Grimms.”

Would Nicky ever forgive her if she did this?  He’d been traveling with this girl for a long time by now.  Marie wasn’t naïve enough to think it was just to take advantage of the fast food two-for-one deals.  He was seventeen.  Of course, he was in love with her.  And, no, he wasn’t going to forgive Marie if she did this.  She thought of the fiancé she’d loved and left behind to keep Nick safe.  You didn’t get over things like this, not ever.

She nodded.  “Good enough.  Who do you need me to take care of?” 


End file.
